


watch me corrode

by akamine_chan



Series: The Sharpest Lives [20]
Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Community: anon_lovefest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-11
Updated: 2011-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-21 06:26:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/pseuds/akamine_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The raid goes horribly, horribly wrong.  Kobra has a bad case of road rash, the Am is dead for now and Poison is wound tighter than a tweakhead looking for his next shard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	watch me corrode

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Andeincascade (Ande)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ande/gifts).



> Written nonanonymously for the LJ community anon_lovefest.
> 
> Prompt: Party Poison/MCR!Gerard, be what tomorrow needs
> 
> Notes: Unbeta'd. Written for Andeincascade, for the loss of memory and hope of the future. Title from _The Sharpest Lives_ by My Chemical Romance. From the same 'verse as [be a burning star](http://archiveofourown.org/works/218926), which I'm calling the Sharpest Lives 'verse, because I've been listening to that song for a few hours straight now and it fits.

The raid goes horribly, horribly wrong. Kobra has a bad case of road rash, the Am is dead for now and Poison is wound tighter than a tweakhead looking for his next shard. He's pissed at himself, pissed at the Dracs, pissed at the anonymous motor baby who narced on them.

Though he can almost forgive the motor baby—life's tough out in the Dust and the reward on their heads has gotten ridiculously high, too many c's for someone desperate to resist.

They get back to the diner and Poison holds Kobra's hand tight as Ghoul laboriously picks the gravel and glass out of Kobra's back. He winces in sympathy every time Kobra hisses in pain and helps Ghoul with the bandages. He makes Kobra take some of their precious store of antibiotics and painkillers, watching over Kobra until Kobra finally passes out.

Poison goes outside and finds something to focus his irritation on; he kicks the shit out of an old refrigeration unit, leaving behind black streaks from his boots and little crumpled dents. He screams his anger into the night and punches the metal twice for good measure.

It was a stupid thing to do; it splits the skin across his knuckles and the wound bleeds sluggishly. He licks the blood off his hand and mutters to himself about being dumb as a Drac.

Some of his tension has evaporated in his fight with the fridge, but he's still got some aggressive energy to work through before he can sleep.

He hears the rumble of a small, distinctive motor and it's got to be Gerard and his bike, the little custom number that Kobra and Ghoul helped Poison put together for him. Something fast and light to keep him ahead of the Dracs. Poison glances at the moon and realizes that it is later than he thought.

Gerard is waiting for him next to the Am, straddling the bike, his colorful helmet still on. Poison realizes that maybe he's found an outlet for his frustrations and prowls close, letting himself swagger a little.

Gerard pulls off the helmet, his hair flattened a little, and looks him over. "I heard about the raid." He lifts his chin up and meets Poison's eyes.

Poison arches an eyebrow. "Did you, now? News travels fast in the Zones."

Gerard picks at a loose bit of plastic on his helmet. "Everyone okay?"

Looking him over, Poison wonders how he ever got himself into this situation, fucking _involved_ with an ex-junkie former BL/ind hack singer turned voice of the revolution. It's wrong, it's ridiculous, it's most probably doomed, but something about the way Gerard struggles against _everything_ lights up the darkness in Poison's heart. Poison couldn't stay away even if he tried.

Poison shrugs. "We're all a little roughed up and Kobra got a bad case of road rash."

Gerard's eyes find the slash marks on Poison's upper arm and calf, where a sharp blade cut through the fabric. His shoulders don't lose any of their tension. "Word is you got ghosted."

Poison bows rather flamboyantly. "As you can see, the reports of my death are exaggerated."

"Until they're not."

Poison is tired of talking, doesn't understand where Gerard's going with this. He grabs Gerard by the back of his neck and pulls him close, biting at his neck, ear, lips. He pushes his way into Gerard's mouth, rough and insistent, stealing a taste of coffee and cigarettes.

There's a handle bar pressing painfully in Poison's hip and Gerard makes a choked sound that revs Poison's engine like a shot of nitro. The Am is right there; Poison can coax Gerard off his bike and bend him down over the hood of the junker, spread him wide and push his way in. _Yeah._

"Hey, prettybaby," Poison pants against Gerard's lips, "I'm in a foul mood tonight. If you're not up for that, you'd best move on."

Gerard just moans and shifts off his bike, letting Poison push him toward the Am. Suddenly, Gerard grunts, _twists_ and shoves Poison down onto the hood.

Poison's head thunks hard against the metal and he squints up at Gerard, seeing a flash of _something_ on his face before it's gone under Gerard's anger.

"You asshole," Gerard hisses at Poison. He roughly unbuckles Poison's belt and unzips him, pushing the dusty pants down to pool around his boots. Gerard kisses Poison roughly, one hand tight in his red hair, the other pawing at his cock. Poison can't help crying out into Gerard's mouth as Gerard fists his dick fast and hard.

"Fucker," Poison breathes, pulling his mouth away. "What's gotten into you, baby?" He doesn't mind, oh hell, he doesn't mind at all but Poison likes to know what's going on behind Gerard's pretty eyes. It's safer that way.

Gerard just stares down at him, panting and pulling hard on Poison's hair. "I fucking thought you were ghosted," he spits. He squeezes Poison's cock and works him, jerks him unrelenting and brutal and when Poison moans and comes, Gerard kisses him.

The kiss is soft and lost and tastes bittersweet like some of the songs that Gerard sings to the motor babies, up on his stage in skanky Fuck You houses and filthy clubs and bars across the Dust.

"You're too important—" Gerard starts.

Oh, fuck, no. This convo should have been dead and buried long ago. "I am not your fucking revolution, Gerard. When I die, and don't kid yourself that it won't be soon, because Korse has such a hard-on for my fucking head that there's no way around it. When I _do_ get ghosted there will be a hundred other Killjoys ready to step in and take my place, to keep thumbing our collective noses at BL/ind and everything it stands for."

"You're too important to _me_ , you fucker." The words are small and quiet. They stun Poison into silence with their simplicity.

Gerard lets go like he can't stand touching Poison for another minute. He walks away and even when Poison calls his name, he doesn't look back.

-fin-


End file.
